


tender, sweet

by Anonymous



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Belly Kink (sort of?), Hand Feeding, M/M, Stuffing, happy birthday tsumugi i guess, this is awful im so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:08:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28399737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Tsumugi doesn't like to make his birthday a big deal, but Omi has other plans once the party's over.
Relationships: Tsukioka Tsumugi/Fushimi Omi (Implied)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14
Collections: Anonymous





	tender, sweet

**Author's Note:**

> don't like don't read i wrote this in a haze for like 3 hours straight and it's kind of a mess  
> this really just wrote itself have you READ omi and tsumugi's earn cash conversation? it's unreal.  
> mostly inspired by omi's birthday message for tsumugi ("You seem like you're eating a lot more. I'm glad.")

Tsumugi is a simple man. For the weeks leading up to his birthday, he kept brushing off questions about what he wanted with little things: some new seeds, maybe fertilizer for his garden, a bouquet if he was feeling fancy. He hadn’t even wanted a huge party; just a small affair with the rest of his troupe would be perfectly fine for him, a slice of cake and a small glass of whatever sake Azuma had on hand at the moment. (Of course, the rest of the company doesn’t let him have this, but once they give him their numerous presents they mostly clear out.)

By now, it must be half past midnight; all but the worst night owls are in bed by now, and even those who are still up have retreated to their rooms. But when Tsumugi descends the stairs for a glass of water before he finally falls asleep, the end of the hallway is lit up; closer inspection shows that a light is on in the kitchen. Is Omi finishing some late-night dishes to run the dishwasher overnight? In any case, it shouldn’t be too much trouble for him to just slip in and get a glass of water, right? Tsumugi runs a hand through his hair and lets his bangs flop back against his forehead, striding into the kitchen and trying not to act like a kid caught up past his bedtime.

He was right, of course—the only person who would be in the kitchen at this time is Omi, but he’s not doing dishes like he thought. In fact, they’ve already been done; the sink is completely empty, but the counter is covered. Are those… deviled eggs?

There’s several trays of them, in fact, all seeming to have different toppings. The surprise of seeing so much food has stopped him in his tracks, but Omi hasn’t seen him yet: he’s turned away, adding Dijon mustard to a bowl of crumbled egg yolks drop by agonizing drop until he’s decided it’s the perfect ratio. Tsumugi almost wants to hide, feeling like he’s walked in on something deeply personal, but he’s rooted to the spot just long enough that Omi turns to grab another plate of empty egg whites and spots him, nearly dropping the plate in his hands.

“T-Tsumugi-san..!” He looks a little embarrassed, giving an uncharacteristic stutter. “I didn’t think you’d still be up… aren’t you worn out from partying?”

“You know Winter Troupe, we don’t really party hard…” He feels a little hesitant, looking around at what could only be called a veritable deluge of deviled eggs. “..Why are you making so many deviled eggs? Are you preparing for some kind of event?” That’s the only explanation he can think of for so many trays, especially with so many different toppings.

“..I guess you could say that.” Omi glances at the clock and winces. “Though I guess the event is over now.”

It takes Tsumugi a second, but his cheeks immediately flare bright red as he realizes the chef is talking about  _ his birthday _ . “Omi-kun… I can’t eat all this…! Did you really make all these for me?” Eggs are his favorite, after all… deviled eggs are rarer for him to have since they take more preparation, plus they’re so much richer with all the extra flavor and the thick, creamy mayonnaise…

The younger man has the decency to look sheepish, at least. “I know you really like eggs, and my present for you wasn’t that great…” He’d given Tsumugi a book on vegetable gardening, since he mostly worked with flowers and might be interested in branching out. “So I just.. Started cooking. And I guess I went overboard.”

“Overboard is an  _ understatement _ … it would take me forever to eat all these, and by then they might go bad…” 

There’s a short moment of unsure silence between them, before Omi finally lets a few words spill from his lips. “They’ll go by faster if I feed them to you.”

Oh.  _ Oh _ . Tsumugi might  _ seem _ like a pure, untouched man, but it’s not like he’s never heard of a fetish—he’s a psychology major, for God’s sake. It was almost hilariously obvious in hindsight that the warm, motherly chef who just  _ loves _ making sure everyone has eaten their fill would be a feeder. 

And, well… it’s not like Tsumugi is exactly into that, but… he  _ is _ a little curious. And also hungry. And who is he to turn down deviled eggs, especially made by Omi’s expert hands?

“...Okay.” His voice is soft. “Go for it, Omi-kun. I don’t mind.”

The younger man’s eyes light up almost adorably. If Tsumugi is being honest with himself, Omi is honestly quite attractive; but Tsumugi’s first love has always been theater, and he’s never really bothered with romance (besides a short fling with Tasuku… but they decided they were better off as friends.) And of course this silly little experiment isn’t enough to get him thinking about kissing Omi, but… the way he lights up at being indulged  _ is _ awfully cute. That’s all.

“Okay. Um. Go ahead and sit down, what kind do you want first?” Tsumugi isn’t picky, so he let himself go wild with toppings; one tray has the classic Dijon mustard and paprika, another covered in bacon and chives in a loaded baked potato style, even one with goat cheese mixed in for extra rich creaminess. 

Tsumugi hums as he takes a seat at the table, resting his chin on his hand and looking at the trays. “Just… pick any topping. I trust the chef’s judgment, hmm?” He can’t help but enable Omi a little bit, he’s just so cute when he’s excited.

“Good.. good,” he murmurs, to himself, picking up a tray of the loaded baked potato style, coming over and setting it down. “How do they look? To your liking?” 

“They look  _ lovely _ .” And they smell delicious, too… the bacon must have been cooked recently, and there’s a little sprinkle of cheese on top. Tsumugi wasn’t kidding when he said he was hungry; the very sight of the delicious, flavorful eggs makes his stomach growl. It’s so loud that he even blushes a little, though this only makes Omi smile more. 

“I’ve noticed you’ve been eating more,” Omi comments conversationally as he picks up one of the eggs, examining it absentmindedly. “It makes me happy. You’re so thin… I could probably wrap one of my hands around your wrist and have all my fingers to spare. So… I’m glad you’re eating a little more. Really.”

This observance makes Tsumugi blink; of course he’s been watching.. But he didn’t realize Omi would actually be concerned about it. Is this deviled egg stunt a weird way of showing his concern? In any case, he’s finding himself almost eager to be fed, which surprises him. Is it because it’s his favorite food? Or is it because maybe he really does want to be fed… He shakes his head slightly and parts his lips, as if silently asking Omi to begin.

The taller man easily takes the hint, carefully bringing the egg to his lips. The eggs must have been exceptionally large, because he can only bite about half of it in one go; he doesn’t really mind, because it means more time to savor the flavor. He licks a trace of yolk off of his lips as he rolls the flavor around in his mouth, enjoying the texture contrast between the crunchy bacon and the almost silky, creamy egg yolks. Delicious. Omi’s magic touch has done it again, clearly.

Except this savoring seems to irritate Omi slightly. He must be impatient… Tsumugi chuckles softly. “It’s delicious, Omi. Are you impatient?” He opens his mouth expectantly; now that he’s savored the first bite, he’ll let Omi feed him however he wants. 

“Don’t tease me,” Omi mumbles, uncharacteristically shy. This is probably the first time he’s ever had someone so willingly bend to his whims; the poor chef is probably nervous.

“Alright, alright,” he laughs warmly. “Go ahead and keep going. I’ll be a good boy.”

That seems to bring a little bit of life back to Omi’s eyes, and he eagerly gives him the other half of the egg, pushing another to his lips before Tsumugi has even finished chewing. Definitely impatient… but that’s alright. This can just be a one-time indulgence. He’ll get full after a bit, Omi will stop, and he can have leftovers tomorrow.

* * *

  
  


Omi doesn’t seem to want leftovers.

Tsumugi had started to feel full after finishing the first tray of eggs, the rich egg yolks settling heavily in his stomach. The gardener is so slim that the second he overeats you can practically  _ see _ the bulge, and he can definitely feel it, too.

“Come on, Tsumugi-san. Open up, won’t you?” As they continued, Omi had gotten more and more confident, taking control with ease no doubt from his natural leadership skills. By comparison, Tsumugi was a lot quieter, letting Omi fill him up without complaint; the delicious flavors were enough to pacify him, and the slowly growing weight in his belly was just the icing on top of the figurative cake. (If Tsumugi thought about cake any longer, he might actually get sick.) 

Despite Tsumugi’s obvious fullness, Omi wants to continue, taking the tray of the classic deviled eggs over to the table and bringing it to his lips. The sharp flavors of mustard and vinegar would surely cut through the lingering richness of cheese and bacon, allowing the older man’s palate a reprieve and slight pick-me-up.

Tsumugi doesn’t really pick up on this choice, though. He merely opens his mouth obediently and lets Omi feed him; it has to be past one in the morning already, maybe even two. He hasn’t bothered looking at the clock. A slightly miserable hiccup works its way up from his chest, causing a flush to rise up his neck and cheeks. “Omi-kun, please… I’m kind of full… can’t we just save the rest?”

“And why would I do that? They’ll go bad soon, and I don’t want anyone else finding these in the fridge. They’re  _ your _ treat, Tsumugi-san.” A little glint flickers in his eyes. “Just for you, okay? Nobody else.”

Possessive, hm..? Just another secret side of Omi. Another hiccup rocks him in his seat, and he lets out a slightly pitiful whine. “Can I at least have a drink..? The eggs are so rich…”

Ah. That was something Omi had overlooked. “R-right,” he murmurs, seeming a little embarrassed about his oversight. “What would you like?”

“Just-  _ hic _ !-” another whine- “Just water… I’ll be alright.” Tsumugi takes the opportunity of Omi getting up and getting a glass to lean back, looking down. A little tummy forming from all the indulgence… it’s mostly solid, with only a slight give at the very bottom from what little body fat he already had. It’s pressing against the button-down he wore for his little birthday party, a baby blue number that he’d only ever worn once or twice. It’s not enough to be uncomfortable, though; most of Tsumugi’s clothes tend to hang off of him like curtains no matter what, so if anything the shirt is fitting better than it was before.

While Omi is getting water, he tries holding his breath for a bit, trying his best to get rid of the hiccups before they start to hurt. One small one slips out, but before long, they’re gone, the tension in his chest slowly relaxing. Much better. He’s suddenly sleepy—it’s late, very late, and he’s sure to slip into a food coma the moment Omi lets him go.

The younger man comes back with water, and Tsumugi thankfully gulps it down, feeling the mass of food inside him begin to settle with the liquid addition. Much better… in fact, he feels a little less full, and suddenly the fresh tray of eggs looks a little more appetizing and a little less exhausting. “Okay… I think I can have some more. If you’re  _ really _ insistent on getting as many of these into me as you can.” How did he even get to this point? It’s a little ridiculous, really. 

“Okay.. good. ...I won’t push you too far if you really can’t, but I want to do that. Push your limits, I mean. See where they are.” Omi’s caring side is breaking through, even though he’s so eager to fill Tsumugi up.

“Right, right. It’s alright. You’re kind of cute when you’re excited.” He flashes a shy smile, then takes a deep breath. Yeah, he can definitely fit in a little more. “Go on. Keep going, won’t you?”

Omi takes the hint and brings another egg to his lips. Yeah… this is going to be a while.

* * *

  
  


With Omi’s help (he couldn’t resist trying some of his own food—a chef has to taste test, after all), they’re down to just a few left. It’s got to be super late by now, and Tsumugi can feel the food coma tugging at the edges of his vision, threatening to pull him into a blissful, egg-fueled sleep. But he resists, since he’s rather curious to see Omi’s satisfied face once he finally finishes that last egg; though he’s not exactly deriving a lot of pleasure from this, it  _ is _ intriguing, and Omi’s eager body language is enough satisfaction for him. Plus, the food  _ is _ delicious, even if so many at once can make it a little bland. It’s a good thing deviled eggs are rare treats; were they any more common in his diet, he might have trouble eating them for a good while.

“You’re doing so well,” Omi murmurs almost absentmindedly, swiping a bit of creamy yolk from the corner of Tsumugi’s lips. Tsumugi is normally a very clean eater, but the exhaustion weighing down his bones is enough to make his lips a little clumsy. “I never would have thought you could get so much down… you’re so slim normally.” 

“I guess I had a little more room than usual,” Tsumugi replies, sounding more than a little sleepy. “And I can never resist eggs.. You know that. They’re my favorite.”

“Believe me, I know,” the other chuckles softly, letting Tsumugi lick at some of the filling before giving him a bite of the egg white. “You always love my omelets. And when I leave hard boiled eggs in the fridge, they’re gone before the end of the day… It’s like I don’t even need to feed you for you to eat everything I make.”

“Don’t tease me,” he echoes Omi from earlier, giving a satisfied sigh. “I can’t help it. Especially when I’ve accidentally forgotten to have a meal before then… I get so scatterbrained sometimes.”

“Fine, fine. Almost done, Tsumugi-san.” He gives the older man a short break by placing one hand on his stomach, careful not to add undue pressure as he lets the warmth of his palm seep in. Though Tsumugi’s skin is naturally cold, when he pulls up the hem of that baby blue button-down, there’s a cute pink flush around his belly button, and it feels a little warmer than usual. How cute… when he looks up at Tsumugi’s face, he even seems a little shy. 

“I’ve never had anyone touch me there,” he mumbles as a short explanation, no doubt seeing the slightly amused expression on Omi’s face. “It’s kind of nice…” At that admission, Omi gives a gentle laugh and begins to carefully rub his belly, letting all of the food settle for a minute or so before looking back at the last three eggs.

“Think you can get down the rest?”

His slightly competitive, determined side comes out. “...Yes. I want to finish, Omi-kun. Won’t you help me?”

Another egg at his lips. Perfect… he’ll sleep better tonight than he thinks he ever has. He gets the first egg down in a couple bites, licking his lips free of the yolk filling. These ones have goat cheese in them.. Deliciously rich and exceptionally creamy, even more so than the usual recipe. Leave it to Omi to come up with something amazing and creative.

A short breath and a sip of water later, he eats the second, taking his time with chewing the egg white. Though mostly devoid of flavor, he enjoys the texture, and it gives him a second to relax his jaw a bit. Though the eggs are soft, chewing so much would give anyone a bit of an ache. 

“I’m definitely done after this,” Tsumugi mumbles, watching Omi wipe his hand free of any fallen toppings and lift the final egg. “And then I probably won’t eat for another week. You’ve just about sent me into hibernation, Omi-kun…”

“Good thing it’s winter, then. Oh, and I never really got the chance to say, but… happy birthday, Tsumugi-san.” And with those words, the last egg is tenderly sent past his lips. The second Omi’s hand is free of egg, both hands fall to Tsumugi’s front, lifting the hem of his shirt and practically cupping the little tummy in his hands. Most of this will be gone come morning, but it’s alright; it’s quite cute while it lasts. “And now you get special Fushimi belly rubs, specifically designed to make you feel better.” A warm, almost loving smile comes to his face as he watches Tsumugi’s head loll sleepily, his chin trying to meet his chest. 

“Thanks,” Tsumugi nearly slurs. “For the birthday wish. And the eggs.” He’s  _ so _ tired… but he’s pleasantly warm and full. Maybe he doesn’t derive any  _ pleasure _ from this, but it’s certainly pleasant… he feels a little more grounded, less wispy and frail. It’s… nice.

“I’ll carry you to bed, okay? I trust Tasuku-san is a heavy sleeper?”

“Mm… just be quiet and it’ll be fine.. But you better not jostle me. Too full for that…” One little hiccup finally makes it past his lips, but that seems to be the only one. He’s internally grateful for that; hiccups at this point would spell pain and disaster.

“I’ll be careful. Up we go…”

One careful trek up the stairs later, and Tsumugi is deposited safely in his bed, feeling rather like an egg in the nest himself, bundled up in the blankets. That was… kind of fun, really, if only just because he got to see Omi a little more excited than usual. And hey… maybe he could learn to like it too.

Well...

He would just have to wait and see, wouldn’t he? Maybe he would find out next December 28th.

And with that thought, the food coma takes hold... He definitely won’t be up before noon.


End file.
